


The Sweetest Song

by DoomedTemperament



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Music, Piano, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-01-15 07:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomedTemperament/pseuds/DoomedTemperament
Summary: Despite his lessons, despite his reputation, he only wanted to play for himself. If he only played for himself, there was no room for judgement from others- something he was far too familiar with.And yet, on one otherwise-ordinary day, Midorima found a note on the piano.To the pianist: Can you play something contemporary?





	1. A melody for you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Self Indulgence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737053) by [missmichellebelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle). 



> Inspired by a fic that was inspired by a tumblr post lol.
> 
> I thought this would perfectly fit MidoTaka since Midorima plays the piano :0
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It started with a sticky note stuck to the piano.

Or maybe it started in Teikou, when basketball had jaded Midorima so much that he had the soundness of mind to quit before he turned into even more of a monster than he was accused of being. When he had watched the people he had quietly considered friends become whispers of their former selves.

Or maybe it started even before that, at the tender age of six, when his mother first introduced him to the keys, when she played a song so beautiful that he thought he might fall in love with it.

However it started, it ended with two lucky souls, brought together with fate.

* * *

The Shuutoku High music room was where Midorima often found himself lurking.

Since day one of his joining high school, he had been recognized as several things- the fallen shooter from the Generation of Miracles, the weirdo with green hair, the freak who brought all sorts of weird things with him to school under the guise of luck- and he had been in need of a respite area. Somewhere he could go to, just to clear his mind and feel like he was a well-adjusted person for more than five minutes. The music room was that exact place.

Not many filtered through the room, even after school hours. Shuutoku didn’t exactly have an orchestra, as the teachers leaned more in favor of a marching band. However, there was a piano, which, along with the serene quiet of the space, was exactly what Midorima needed as an escape. He’d let himself dance his fingers across the keys, getting lost in the melodies for sometimes up to two hours at a time. Despite his lessons, despite his reputation, he only wanted to play for himself. If he only played for himself, there was no room for judgement from others- something he was far too familiar with.

And yet, on one otherwise-ordinary day, Midorima found a note on the piano.

_To the pianist: Can you play something contemporary?_

Midorima looked at the piece of paper in confusion. As far as he was aware of, not many people passed by the music room after-hours, even less who would actually care to listen to his piano playing. So, he was reasonably puzzled.

He considered setting the note in the trash and forgetting about it, perhaps going home early that day, but then stopped.

All he really knew were classical pieces. And as much as he found relaxation in them, he had been itching to try something different; Times had changed, after all, and one could only play Beethoven for so long without getting sick of it.

And so, he wracked his brain, trying to think of something that wasn’t composed by someone who had been dead for over a century.

Eventually, he searched through his phone for something to play. A good chunk of the results that he found were sheets for anime openings, but he couldn’t bring himself to play any of the cheesier ones. Eventually he settled on one song from a band whose name he couldn’t be bothered to remember (Grand Radio, was it?) and began to play. As he let his fingers and his mind wander, he found that… he was actually enjoying himself more than he expected. The piano was his safe haven, but while he had used the opportunity to purge his thoughts, he’d never actually played for fun. It was a startlingly new experience, and as the last few notes faded away, he found his heart feeling lighter than it usually did.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent basking in the clarity that followed, though he eventually snapped out of it, and decided to return to the classics.

He also made a mental note to look up more modern songs. Just in case.

* * *

The next day gave him yet another surprise in the form of a post-it note on the piano.

_How about something foreign?_

Midorima blinked.

He wasn’t sure how to feel; While he had enjoyed himself the previous day, he felt mildly uncomfortable with the fact that someone might have been actively listening to him. And he didn’t know which was worse- if whoever wrote the note knew that he was the pianist, or if they didn’t.

Still…

He recalled a band and a song that had been immensely popular in the west, though he barely remembered the lyrics (something about real life and fantasy, but Midorima certainly wasn’t a singer, so it didn’t really matter to him.) The song itself took roughly six minutes to play, but those six minutes felt like a lifetime to Midorima.

When he stopped playing, there was a moment of silence, and then… applause?

It was quiet, not quite inaudible, and it only lasted a few seconds before fading away. Midorima was tempted to open the door in search of the noise, but then thought better of it. If there was a chance that someone saw him, he didn’t want to deal with the aftermath. And so, as he always did, he stomped down the urge to communicate, and returned to his playing.

* * *

On day three, Midorima saw yet another sticky note on the piano.

_Play the fastest song you know._

That one intrigued him. Whoever was writing the sticky notes must have taken an interest in his skills, and was now offering a challenge. Midorima couldn’t help but wonder- who was interested enough that they would take time out of their day to write post-it notes on the piano? And how did they get the time to listen? Surely whoever it was must have been in a club, otherwise they wouldn’t have heard him in the first place.

Midorima brushed his thoughts aside and focused on the keys- _Fantasie-Impromptu, Opus 66._ He poured his heart and soul into every chord, trying not to focus too much on the fact that someone at that very moment was probably listening.

He sighed when he finished, and tried to resist the smile that threatened to break through his expression when he heard the quiet sound of applause once again.

* * *

And so, the cycle continued for days and weeks.

_Do J-Pop next._

_Play something by Susumu Hirasawa._

_A song from your favorite movie._

_Something from your childhood._

_A theme song from a popular anime ;)_

(The winky face had thrown Midorima off that time.)

With each day that passed, Midorima found himself feeling more and more confident. The whispers behind his back didn’t sound as loud, the sneers thrown at him didn’t look as sharp, and maybe, just maybe, Midorima wondered if he had (albeit unintentionally) made a friend.

He was still hesitant to seek whoever was making the strange requests, but it was probably for the best.

And then, one day, he heard it.

During his lunch hour on a particularly cold Tuesday, Midorima decided to eat in his classroom instead of in the cafeteria. He was starting to get a headache, and the loud chattering of the rest of the students was making it worse. The classroom, however, was much quieter.

He was nearly done eating when the beginning notes of Fantasie-Impromptu quietly rang through the air, causing him to almost choke on his rice.

A subtle glance across the room led him to two classmates who had been idly chatting. If Midorima remembered correctly, both were in the school’s basketball team (honestly, Midorima couldn’t completely avoid the sport); One with jet-black hair and sharp blue eyes, the other with short strawberry-blonde hair and an unfriendly outward demeanor. The one with black hair fished through his bookbag and pulled out his phone, clicking his tongue and turning it off shortly after.

“Hey Takao,” The one with shorter hair started, “What was that?”

“Just a spam caller,” The other one- Takao?- responded.

“Not that, dummy. I meant your ringtone. I didn’t know you were into classical music.”

Takao shrugged and grinned.

“Dunno, I guess I’ve just acquired a taste for the piano.”

“You’re weird.”

The bell rang to signal the end of the lunch hour. Midorima barely registered it.

_It has to be a coincidence._

* * *

The next day, Midorima woke up with a headache even worse than the one before.

A quick temperature check revealed a fever. Midorima’s mother had hurried him back to bed when she realized he had intended to go to school anyway.

“Shintarou, I don’t understand why you’re so insistent today,” She said, and then added with a small smile, “You never used to look forward to the day, now you go to school with a spring in your step.”

Midorima’s cheeks turned red, only slightly due to his fever. There was no way he’d be telling his mother that he had been looking forward to the day’s piano note.

A quick call to the school to let the principal know that he’d be out sick and to request someone to bring his homework to him afterward, and his mother shooed him back into his bedroom with a blanket and a promise to make some warm soup for him later.

As Midorima was slowly lulled into sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder what his listener would think.

Hours passed, with Midorima unsure of the time and switching between restlessness and deep sleep, when the doorbell rang. He carefully stood up, slinking down the stairs to open the front door. He was almost sure that it was his younger sister coming back from school to find that the door was locked, but when he unlocked and opened it, he was surprised to see the short-haired blonde from the basketball team, still looking surly.

“Can I come in?”

Midorima nodded, and stepped away to let him inside. His classmate then unzipped his bookbag and pulled out an envelope.

“I was told I needed to give you your homework for today. So take it.”

Midorima nodded and accepted the papers. The blonde was prepared to leave, then, but stopped as his eyes settled on the corner of the side-room.

“You play the piano or something?”

Midorima followed his gaze to where the house piano rested.

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

The other male made a sound as if he had just had a revelation.

“Just asking for a friend.”

With that, he left the house, and Midorima only looked at his retreating form with confusion.

And the next day, when Midorima had returned to school and hesitantly entered the music room, he saw not one, but two notes stuck to the piano.

_A song that you’ve always wanted to play but never could._

_Get well soon._

* * *

Anxiety overcame Midorima on the following Friday afternoon.

He had excused himself shortly before the end of class, and surprisingly, his teacher had let him go. With anticipation building in his stomach, he power-walked to the music room, stopping at the piano, and noticed that there was no note on the piano. Yet.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and waited.

The door clicked open.

When Midorima opened his eyes, he felt some- not all, but some- of the tension leave his body.

“Heh, looks like I got caught,” Takao said, sheepishly holding on to a post-it note.

“How long had you been listening?” Midorima blurted out, unsure of what to say, and internally cringed at the way it sounded. Fortunately, Takao took it in stride.

“Since the second or third week of the semester, I think. I had to leave the gym during basketball warmups because I forgot one of my notebooks in the classroom, and I heard you playing. It sounded nice, so I thought I’d ask for more.”

“Did you know it was me?” Midorima asked, glancing away.

“Not until the other day, no. I found out when you were sick on Wednesday. I didn’t hear you playing in the hallway, and Miyaji said I was sulking. He told me that he had to leave practice early to give you your homework, and then he texted me when he found out you had a piano. But it was kind of a lucky guess.”

_Ah, Miyaji is the blonde._

Midorima swallowed thickly.

“Does that change anything for you?”

Takao raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Surely you’ve heard what people say about me,” Midorima said with a frown. “I’m supposedly a freak, a weirdo, a monster, and those are some of the more generous descriptors.”

Takao laughed lightly, and Midorima didn’t know how to feel about it.

“You think I care about that?” Takao said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve heard what people say, and I’ve seen it for myself too-“ Midorima flinched, and Takao hastily added- “But I think I made a misjudgement.”

“Explain,” Midorima said, softer than he would have liked.

“I played basketball against you in middle school, you know,” Takao said, shrugging. “You completely trounced us. But it looked like nobody cared, and when I saw that you came to the school but didn’t try out for the team, I guessed something had changed. And it looks like I was right.”

Midorima wasn’t sure what to say. Thankfully, he had no need to say anything, as shortly after, the familiar tune of Takao’s ringtone filled the room.

_”Takao! Are you stalling even longer than usual? My brother’s getting pissed and we have a practice game against Seirin today. Get over here!”_

The voice crackled loudly through the speaker, and Takao winced.

“Sorry Shin-chan, I gotta go,” He said, hanging up and tacking the post-it note onto the piano. As he headed for the door, he paused, and looked behind him with a smile. “I won’t be able to listen today, but be sure to play for me sometime next week, okay?”

With a wink, Takao stepped out of the room, leaving Midorima behind.

Midorima pursed his lips, feeling something unnamed stirring in his stomach. Wordlessly, he turned his gaze to the post it note, sitting innocuously on the piano, and read it.

_A song that’s important to you._

And if Midorima let the smallest of smiles show on his face as he sat on the bench and began to play, well, nobody else had to know.


	2. To Play (an instrument, a game)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days later, he overheard two of his female classmates whispering and giggling to each other before class.
> 
> “Isn’t the inter-high starting tomorrow?” “I think so. They’re going to be holding a preliminary game here.” “Takao is in the starting lineup, you know. Do you think we should watch him play?” “Duh! He’s such a cutie.”
> 
> Midorima rolled his eyes.
> 
> He still went to watch the team anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember how I said there would be a second chapter? Well, here it is. And now there's probably going to be a third (or maybe even fourth???? who knows, not me lmao)
> 
> This one is more basketball-oriented, but I swear the focus is still gonna be on Midorima playing the piano.

After classes on Monday, Midorima entered the music room to find Takao waiting for him, still in his gakuran.

“No post-it today?” Midorima asked honestly, and Takao laughed.

“Nah, I wanted to hear and see you play for myself.”

Midorima raised his brows in mild surprise, and glanced around the room.

“Surely your teammates will be annoyed with you if you’re late to practice.”

Takao grinned and shook his head.

“We don’t have practice today. The inter-high is coming up soon, so everyone was given a day to rest up before we start playing.” And then, as an afterthought, “Shin-chan should come see me play.”

Midorima choked on air.

“Did you just call me Shin-chan?”

“Yup!” Takao said, “I called you that on Friday too, but you didn’t say anything then so I thought you were fine with it.”

Midorima tried to remember such an incident.

Ah, he had been too distracted by Takao’s wink as he left.

“Setting that childish nickname aside, you usually give me a request.”

Takao hummed in thought, and leaned against the piano.

“How about… the silliest song you can think of?” He said. “I want to learn more about Shin-chan’s music now that I have the chance.”

“Will you stop calling me Shin-chan if I play it?”

“No promises.”

Midorima sighed, and sat down on the bench. He honestly had to think of a song that he’d consider silly; He’d played many songs over the years, but most were either joyous or somber. Eventually, he settled on a song he remembered hearing his mother play when he was young, and had laughed at the name. He had then insisted on learning how to play it for weeks on end, until his father had politely sat him down and told him that songs got tiring after being played time after time after time.

With steady hands, he began. 

His fingers quickly danced across black and white, and all the while, Midorima could practically feel Takao staring at him. It wasn’t as unpleasant as he thought it would be. When the last note echoed through the room, Midorima felt himself relax. As always, his fingers never missed a key. He glanced at Takao, who was watching him slack-jawed in awe.

“Shin-chan, that was amazing!”

“I told you not to call me that!”

Takao ignored him.

“The way you were playing was like… it was like you were in some sort of zone! What song was that, anyway?”

Midorima smirked.

“Rage over a Lost Penny.”

Takao began to laugh, and Midorima almost wanted to echo it. It felt refreshing to have someone laughing _with_ him instead of at him, as had happened on a few notable occasions during both his time at Shutoku and Teiko.

“Do you ever compose your own stuff?” Takao asked suddenly, catching Midorima off-guard.

Midorima shook his head.

“I’ve never felt particularly inspired to. All of the songs I play have been practiced over the years, and I’ve never felt a need to deviate from them.”

Takao made a surprised noise, and looked at Midorima with something in his eyes that was eerily concentrated, though what it was was unknown to Midorima.

“You should consider it. I bet you’d make something great.”

“You place an awful lot of faith in me, considering we’ve barely met,” Midorima countered, and Takao shrugged in response.

“It’s not necessarily faith, more… interest.”

Midorima looked down at the piano’s keys.

“I mean, ever since I played against you in middle school, I’d been interested in finding out more about you,” Takao continued, “And I didn’t really know what to feel when you didn’t sign up for the basketball team. It might have been interesting to be on the same side as you.” And then, with a glimmer in his eyes, “I’ve been told I can see things that others can’t.”

Midorima snorted. “What, like ghosts?”

“Play against me and find out.”

Midorima frowned.

He hadn’t played basketball in a long while- and though he doubted his skills had rusted, his hangups made him hesitant.

Then again, he never was good at resisting challenges.

“If I must.”

* * *

When Takao and Midorima arrived at the gym, Midorima was surprised to hear the sound of sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor. It wasn’t full by any means, but several students were inside, half-dressed in practice sweats. Takao grinned and called out to one of the groups.

“Otsubo! Kimura! Come check it out!”

The two in question- one with a stern expression and a strangely-tall haircut, the other looking even sterner with a buzzcut- stopped and turned to look at them. The one with the buzzcut (who Midorima assumed was Kimura) dropped his basketball.

Midorima kept his head held high as the two approached them.

“I thought you had gone home, Takao,” The one with the tall hair said, and then turned to Midorima. “I’m surprised to see you here too.”

“I convinced Shin-chan to play against us,” Takao said brightly.

“ _Us?_ You said I’d play against _you._ ”

“It’s more fun on a team, yeah?” Takao nudged Midorima in the side.

Midorima didn’t respond, but he did begin to unbutton his gakuran. Takao’s expression grew serious.

“Otsubo, how about you team up with Shin-chan? I’ll play with Kimura. First duo to ten points wins.”

Otsubo looked at Takao skeptically, but nodded.

And the match began.

The older Miyaji brother led the tip-off, and Otsubo was first to get to it. Without even hesitating, he passed to Midorima. Midorima looked at him with mild shock, almost letting Takao steal the ball- _almost._ When he snapped out of his short reverie, he pursed his lips and stepped back for a three-point shot. As he knew it would, the ball went cleanly through the hoop without even a ‘swish’. 

Takao whistled, impressed.

“Still the same as I remember,” He said, then narrowed his eyes. “Now it’s my turn.”

The next score came from Kimura- Without Midorima even realizing it, Takao had taken out Midorima and Otsubo’s defenses, passing to Kimura, who made an impressive dunk.

Midorima glanced at Takao.

“What was that?” He asked, earning a laugh.

“That’s the hawk-eye at work. I can see just about anything on the court and act on my options,” Takao smirked, “And you totally fell for it.”

Midorima frowned.

“You’ll soon regret those words.”

The mock-match continued in much the same way- Midorima made two more three-pointers (mostly thanks to Otsubo’s passes) while Takao and Kimura combined their power to make three more two-point shots. They had attracted the remaining few members of the team who had been spending their rest day at practice, but Midorima paid them no mind. Whoever made the last move would be the winner, and Midorima hated to lose. 

Which is why, when he knew Kimura was planning on blocking his shot, he passed to Otsubo.

As the final point was scored, Midorima tried to calm the racing of his heart.

Maybe the game had stirred something unknown inside him.

He didn’t have much time to think about it, as Takao slapped his back good-naturedly (earning a sudden ‘oof’) and smiled at him.

“That was pretty neat. Now I almost wish you did join the team. Almost.”

Midorima shook his head, exasperated.

* * *

Two days later, he overheard two of his female classmates whispering and giggling to each other before class.

“Isn’t the inter-high starting tomorrow?”

“I think so. They’re going to be holding a preliminary game here.”

“Takao is in the starting lineup, you know. Do you think we should watch him play?”

“Duh! He’s such a cutie.”

Midorima rolled his eyes.

He still went to watch the team anyway.

The gym seemed much smaller when dozens of bunches of students were crammed into the bleachers, but Midorima didn’t mind. It was a different feeling, being on the opposite side of the game, watching instead of acting. Not that he actually minded.

The five starters- Takao, Kimura, Otsubo, and the Miyaji brothers- walked onto the court for warmups. It was clear that they had much more presence than the opposing team (whose school was, as he understood, full of cocky amateurs.) And unsurprisingly, as Shutoku played an intense game against the team, winning with a score of 67 to 45, the crowd went wild. Midorima didn’t cheer- there was no need to, after such a predictable game. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel just a smidge of pride in the team.

As he left the gym, still holding onto his lucky item for the day (a plastic slinky), he heard a familiar voice.

“So Shin-chan did come to see me play!” Takao said, seemingly popping up out of nowhere and startling Midorima.

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning up in the locker room?”

“Nah,” Takao said, “I can spare a minute. So, what did you think of the game?”

Midorima paused, searching for the right words.

“You all make a formidable team. Your victory was almost certainly assured. Though I would recommend taking extra precaution during your next game.”

“So I should take a lucky item then?” Takao teased, gesturing at the slinky and causing Midorima to scoff.

“It wouldn’t be a bad decision, though I was referring to your team formation.” A beat, and then, “What is your sign, anyway?”

Takao pouted.

“Ah, I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not. And, I’m a scorpio.”

_“Takao, stop flirting and change. I can smell you from all the way over here!”_

Takao frowned at the tone of Otsubo’s voice, but turned around anyway. Several steps away, he paused, then looked back to Midorima and pointed a finger at him in challenge.

“Let’s make a deal- if Shutoku wins the inter-high, you have to compose a song for me!”

_“Kimura, get me a pineapple.”_

At the sound of the older Miyaji’s voice, Takao cringed and hurried away, leaving Midorima behind as the gym began to empty out.

Midorima watched as Takao left, and went home feeling unusually inspired.

_You bet I’d make something great, do you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live and breathe for comments.


	3. Allegretto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midorima soon realized that his schedule had gotten entirely muddied when he found himself watching the fourth inter-high preliminary against Kinka High.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA WOW it's been a while.
> 
> A lot has been going on in my life, switching between projects and so many other things. But I want to finish this fic, and I want to make it something I can be proud of, so I hope the bit that I've written is worth the wait. If you'll notice, I also added another slot for a chapter. Chapter 4 will most likely be the last full chapter, and chapter 5 will most likely be an epilogue.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Midorima soon realized that his schedule had gotten entirely muddied when he found himself watching the fourth inter-high preliminary against Kinka High.

Not only had he been stopping by the gym at odd hours to watch the games, he had also been flipping in-between playing on the piano after school and trying to create his own composition. Takao had more or less wagered Shutoku’s victory with the promise that Midorima would write a song for him (and Midorima hadn’t thought to decline until he had already created the first several measures) which meant that Midorima was spending more time on the home piano than he had intended. This also led to him being scolded by his mother for not hearing the call to dinner on more than one occasion. Of course, he refused to let the distractions keep him from his studies. He was meant to be a model student, after all… but if his thoughts would wander to the keys every once in a while, nobody had to know.

There were times, now, when he didn’t feel isolated from everyone else. He had more or less started to consider Takao a companion. Midorima had taken to eating in the classroom more frequently than the cafeteria, and Takao had surprised him by joining his side. They talked about things Midorima had never felt the need to discuss before; Why he carried lucky items (a habit that had formed when he had started playing daily shogi games against his former basketball captain- how else was he supposed to win?); Why he spoke in such a weird tone (his father had always told him that formality was the key to success, and it had never proved wrong so far); And even why his hair was green _(“That’s just the way it is!”)_ Naturally, Midorima learned more about Takao too. His habit of collecting trading cards, his development of the hawk-eye, and more little details that Midorima surprised himself by remembering.

( _Is this what friendship is supposed to be like?_ He had wondered one day, briefly tuning out as Takao had recalled some story about his little sister.)

Moving back to the present, Midorima had noted that scorpios were in 6th place that day, so in addition to a cartoon phone strap (his own lucky item) he had also brought a cat collar (Takao’s, though Midorima was holding onto it as Takao played- it was better than if Takao had laughed at the gesture.)

As he watched Takao play, every movement swift and calculated, he felt the inspiration surge again. It should have been strange, the thoughts in the back of his mind told him, how Takao had weaseled his way into Midorima’s life so expertly, how he had livened up his days, how he had made Midorima feel something more than just listlessness as he went about his day.

The buzzer sounded, signifying the end of the game and Shutoku’s win. Midorima ignored his thoughts in favor of leaving to get a drink from the vending machine.

“So, Shin-chan came to see yet another game?” Came a teasing voice from around the corner.

“Obviously,” Midorima said, raising an eyebrow at the still-sweaty Takao. “I have to keep track of my school’s success, don’t I? The piece I’m working on depends on it, after all.”

“You mean you already started working on it?” Takao asked, surprised.

“Of course. Victory is almost certainly assured, with a capable team such as Shutoku,” Midorima said, with no small amount of confidence, and tossed the cat collar at Takao.

“My lucky item for today...” Takao mused upon catching it. “And you were holding this for me all the while?”

Midorima was about to respond, but when he glanced at Takao, the words didn’t leave his mouth. Takao was staring at the collar intently, with some emotion that Midorima wasn’t familiar with in his eyes. It was somewhat jarring, but Takao snapped out of it after a few seconds had passed.

“Anyway,” Takao said, appearing to have cleared his mind, “I guess there’s no way I can get a preview of what it’ll sound like, right?”

“Not unless you can read sheet music.”

“Damn.”

* * *

The next several days passed in the usual manner; Every point earned was another note on the staff, every game won was a melody. Midorima had finished a bit over half of the song’s progression, carefully arranging each new bit of inspiration to fit into something that would be deemed musically pleasing.

Oddly enough, it felt like the rest of Shutoku’s team had (albeit reluctantly) begun to accept Midorima into what vaguely resembled a social circle. Takao’s teammates didn’t seem to be bothered much by his presence anymore- _“As long as you’re cheering for us and not those miracle assholes,”_ Otsubo had told him once- and Midorima supposed he could say the same, if he put aside the ever-looming threat of having a pineapple lobbed at him should he happen to make a misstep. It was pleasant.

The pleasantness didn’t last too much longer though.

“Did you hear?” One of his classmates had murmured before class began one day, “I heard Shutoku’s going to be facing Touou in the basketball finals!”

Midorima felt himself go rigid.

When he talked to Takao later that day, it must have been apparent that he was still bothered by it.

“You look even weirder than usual today. Is something up?” Takao asked.

Midorima frowned, debating on whether it was worth it to warn Takao ahead of time about the monstrosity that was Aomine Daiki.

“You’ll be facing Touou in two days’ time.”

“Yup!”

“Were you aware that they’ve acquired one of my former teammates?”

Takao frowned, mulling something over in his head.

“I assumed I’d be playing one of them eventually, but everything else has been so easy… maybe I’ve just let my guard down.” He hummed, and then added, “So… maybe you should tell me what he’s like so we know what to expect.”

That caught Midorima off-guard.

“He is… unpredictable. He doesn’t play traditionally, he doesn’t follow basketball conventions. His freestyle form of playing is one that still irks me to this day, and I assume he’ll be the same as he was in middle school, after everything changed: unrelenting and unforgiving.”

“Geez, Shin-chan, that’s not very helpful,” Takao said, and Midorima could pick up on the twinge of nervousness in his voice. “If even you were scared by this guy, who knows what he’ll do to us?”

“I wasn’t scared of him!” Midorima huffed indignantly, “He was still a fool that refused to take practice seriously, and his movements are most likely rusty by now- only heaven knows if he’ll even show up to the game.” He pointedly decided not to add that Murasakibara and Akashi were more prominent threats.

At the very least, Takao seemed somewhat reassured that the game would go smoothly, and began to relax.

Oh, how wrong he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've migrated from tumblr to twitter, so you can rant in the comments or tweet me @doomtemp .

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me at doomedtemperament.tumblr.com !


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